Train Tracks
by Narceine
Summary: "A boy was hit by a train!" Near pushed his way through the crowd, and what he did see made his heart stop. An arm was flung out, it's leather-gloved hand holding a chocolate bar. Near/Mello, Rated T for character death.


The sky was gray, and it looked like it was about to downpour. Near pushed his way through the streets, trying to get home before he got caught in the storm.

There was a surprisingly large amount of people on the street today. _Why are so many people out now in this kind of weather? _Near asked himself. As he got farther along the street, the crowd was packed so tightly that there was no way he would be able to get through. And they seemed to be blocking the train tracks, which was obviously not a very good idea.

He had no other way to get back home. This was the only street that would take him to his house. Just one block past the train tracks.

Near tried to push through again, but didn't get too far. He was also getting rammed by other people trying to make their way through. _What the hell is going on here?_ His blank gray eyes scanned the area; he could see nothing through the crowd. And he was too short to be able to see over there heads. Oh, how he hated being 5 feet tall.

Other people looked to be trying to see through as well, but they looked more eager, as if something interesting was over there.

Sirens suddenly wailed as a police car sped over, followed by an ambulance. Was there some kind of accident? The police pushed through and made room for a stretcher to squeeze to the front, where the accident apparently took place. He looked up at a tall woman standing next to him, craning her neck in an odd angle to get a view. He gently tugged at her purse and she looked down, large eyes boring into his head.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but what exactly is going on over there?" Near asked quietly. Her eyes widened more.

"There was an accident! A boy was hit by a train!" She told him, with a bit too much enthusiasm. Near raised an eyebrow and tried harder to push through.

Each attempt was futile, as Near was just thrown back. He sighed and got down on his hands and knees, hoping that his pants wouldn't get too dirty, and crawled through the mass of legs until he was finally at the front.

A train was frozen on the tracks, a police officer talking to the conductor. He couldn't see who had been hit, since the medics were kneeling over him at such an angle that Near couldn't see through. But what he could see made his heart stop.

An arm was flung out - hopefully still attached to the body - it's leather-gloved hand holding a chocolate bar.

_No._

_ It can't be him._

_ It's impossible!_

_ No...!_

_ NO!_

Near's always-emotionless eyes were brimmed with tears now, one hand gripping the hem of his shirt and the other twirling a piece of his white locks – no, not twirling, more like tugging. It looked as though Near was about to rip that piece of hair right out of his head.

He had to keep cool. It wasn't like him to do this. Near never had emotional outbursts, that was always Mello.

_Mello..._

"MELLO!" Near screamed, startling the people around him.

In a blur, he darted out of the crowd in an attempt to get to his friend. Cops tried to hold him back. He screamed, kicked, and swore, all things that Near had never done before. He elbowed one cop in the ribs and kicked the other in the stomach, and he was free from their clutches, free to run to his best friend's side. He was nearly terrified, though, to see what kind of condition he was in.

Slowly and cautiously, he walked to where the paramedics were crouched over the body.

A few feet away from where they were crouched, Near noticed something black lying there.

He looked closer.

A leg.

A leg, cut off right above the knee, staining black leather boots with crimson.

Near nearly puked.

He inched his way to the paramedics, holding his stomach in attempt to keep the bile down. Another arm came into view, stained with blood but seemingly unharmed. A leather glove covered the hand on this one, too.

Closer.

He saw the stump where the leg was torn off. Black leather pants hung low on the waist.

Closer.

Yellow-gold strands of hair were fanned out, though the face wasn't visible yet.

Closer.

A tight black leather vest was zipped only half way up, revealing pale skin of his chest. His unmoving chest. Just one more step and...

Mello's scarred face came into view. There was a stream of blood trailing from his hairline down over one eyelid and dripping into his hair. His eyes were shut tight, eyebrows knit together almost connecting into one. His mouth was contorted into a sideways frown, blood dripping slightly from the corner of his mouth.

The thing that scared Near the most...

...He wasn't moving.

The paramedics were pressing fingers to his neck and wrist, trying to find a pulse. One put a head to Mello's chest to hear a heartbeat. After a few moments, he raised his head, shaking it slowly.

"He has no pulse." Another paramedic announced. They checked his pockets to find any indication of who he was, but found nothing.

Mello was always like that – he never brought a license or ID of any sort with him. He liked to remain anonymous. There were very few people who even knew his first name, but Near was one of them.

Mihael Keehl.

That was his name.

Near liked his name. It was different and unique, just like Mello's personality. Near's name was plain and boring, just like him.

Nate River.

The paramedics finally noticed Near standing there, and one tried to pull him away from the scene. Near thrashed and pushed him away, rushing back to his friend's side, crouching like the other medics were.

"You know this boy?"

Near took a deep breath.

"Yes." It came out as a whisper. He feared if he talked any louder, the tears would pour faster than he could think. He looked back to Mello's face, his once lively face, now pale and dead.

Dead...

Mello...He can't be dead!

Mello had always been a fighter. In dangerous situations, he always seemed to get out nearly unscathed. He's survived through more than any normal person could live through.

But Mello had never been a normal person. His unique way of dressing, his don't-fuck-with-me-or-I'll-shoot-your-ass attitude, his long, nearly female-like hair, it was all strange. Mello's entire demeanor was strange. It had been for as long as Near could remember.

His eyes that once held so much fire were now shut, and would never be open again. Nobody would ever be able to see again the cobalt eyes that Near had secretly loved. His soft, warm skin was now stony cold. His plump lips were torn and bloody, and forever frozen in that unhappy line.

Near had never seen Mello cry. He had always thought Mello was too tough to cry. Mello had told him once that tough guys never cried. Which is why Near had become so emotionless over the years. He wanted to show Mello that he could be tough, too.

Looking closer at his eyes and cheeks, there were dried tracks of tears, and his eyes were still slightly swollen. He had been crying. The great Mello had cried. Noticing that made Near finally go off the edge.

The sky suddenly opened up and the rain poured down heavily, almost as if God knew exactly how Near was feeling. He cried, sobbed, let the tears flow freely now, as there was no reason to hold them back anymore. Nobody left to show off to. His fingers pulled and tugged at his white hair, tearing out some white strands. He pounded his fists on Mello's chest. "LIVE! MELLO, YOU'VE LIVED THROUGH EVERYTHING! FUCKING LIVE! STAY ALIVE! DON'T LEAVE ME, YOU ASSHOLE!" He screamed, surprising even himself.

Near didn't even notice when a paramedic came up behind Near until he tapped him on the shoulder. Near whipped his head around, his eyes puffy and teary. The paramedic handed him a piece of paper. "He had this in his back pocket. I would think you'd want it."

Through his teary vision, Near noticed that he was handed a picture. There were two figures in the photo, one leaning against a wall, and the other sitting on the floor in front of what looked to be a block tower. It was a picture of them, when they were still at Whammy's, at the age of 10. Near's eyes widened considerably.

Mello kept a picture of them in his pocket?

Near wiped his tears away violently. He would stay strong for Mello, just like he always had. He felt the sun poke its way through the clouds, ending the rain and shining a small ray of light onto Near.

As he watched the paramedics pull Mello's body away on a stretcher, he felt a light hand on his shoulder. He turned his head, but nobody was there. Though he did feel a presence standing over to him.

A small smile inched its way onto Near's face as he looked at the clouds. He knew now that even if Mello may be physically gone, he would never truly leave Near's side. Even if it was to watch him fail, watch him in his weak moments, Near didn't care. Mello was still with him, and that's all that mattered.

**I hope you liked that. I know it may not have been too great, and the end was terribly cliché, I did try.**

**This story, sadly, was inspired by an accident that happened in Worcester last night. Two girls – two of my classmates – hitched a ride on a train. They tried to jump off. One – Sarah – made it fine. The other – Jackee – was jolted by the movement of the train and tripped. Her leg was caught under the wheel and torn off. Sarah ran to get help, and they called 911. When the ambulances got there, Jackee was in critical condition. My friend told me that they couldn't find her leg, but I doubt that. Anyway, she was rushed to the hospital and had to undergo emergency surgery. Sarah is badly shaken up from watching her best friend get her leg ripped off, and everyone is praying that Jackee lives. There weren't any reports on her condition now, and nobody is allowed to see her yet. So we don't know if she's...alive. Even though I never did get along with Jackee, she's gone through some terrible things in the past three years that I've known her. Everyone is praying for her, as am I. And to anyone who is reading this, please pray for her too. Pray that she lives through this. Thank you for reading.**


End file.
